Dream? What Dream?
by Saro-By-Birth
Summary: This is the best dream ever. I do fantasize of Sasuke often but this is kinda crazy. It may be an awesome dream, but why is it recurring?


This is my first fic to ever be posted. I'm not sure if it's any good, but I guess I'll find out. I've been told my writing is good, but everyone has room for improvement. I'm sorry if it is too short, but this is only a preview.

I'm sure we are all well aware that I do not own Naruto or any of the characters in the show (be it Naruto Shippuden or just plain Naruto). I am just very fond of the specific anime.

Warning: There is some depiction of nudity, and sexual actions. You have been warned.

Hope you enjoy

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Coming home to such a sight causes a mixture of emotions. First, I'm trying to decide if my vision is finally failing me or not. I can't decide if I should turn around and run out of our house, or jump from inexperienced ecstasy.

Then I realize that we don't have a house. We don't even live together. So now I KNOW I'm dreaming. This excites me. It also depresses me because I know this will never happen in… ever (unless scientists find a way to invent this amazing machine that won't overdrive from the mere thought of this turn of events).

I'm also afraid he— they might do something unwanted to me. Unfortunately, for who I don't know, I'm also experiencing this experimental urge to… experiment.

What is this situation I'm talking about? What did I just walk in on? What do I see with my very dreaming eyes? What kind of dreams do I have? Random as hell fantasies!

I am currently standing at the front door of my beloved's and my house with keys in one hand, a bag of food, that was once in my opposite hand, on the floor at my feet, and a bag slung over my shoulder. I look in to see, not one, not two, not even three, by five different figures standing in the living room, all of which resemble the man of my dreams, obviously, and none of which noticed my entrance.

Shit! This looks so effin good. I run a hand through messy, blond hair, as I stare in bewilderment at the vision before me.

One clone wore luscious tight black leather skinnies, a net shirt and a leather jacket. On his feet he had on high top leather boots. He just stood leaning on the kitchen counter. Another in a pair of baggy, light grey sweat pants, no top, and barefoot, sat on the kitchen table. The third was in only boxers hovering over the other in the same attire both forming a panting mess of yummy.

Drooling would be taking place around my mouth area had this not been a creation of my imagination. That's right. This is MY imagination. Damn, I'm creative.

This being my fantasy, I could not find which state I wanted to be lustingly molded into. I could be easily dominated by the luxurious leather being. From the way he's removing his jacket I can tell that he's going to have his way all night. Maybe I could have my way on the table with the laid back pumper. His hand stroking his hard on through the material of his sweatpants forces my inclination to take control of his hot ass. Unfortunately, I also thrive to be caught between the two tongues and four hands that seem eager to explore anything that comes between them. The pleasure that those lips and fingers will cause could be euphoric.

The temptation to unveil the outcome of these possible situations becomes a reserved postponement. My curiosity, as to where the fifth and final replica has vanished to, peaks my interest. The sight of the four before me has distracted me. Not even a vague memory of clothing on the fifth look-alike has clung to my mental adornment. Yet I hear him calling to me from a far off room in the house.

Before I can step foot into another room, smooth, arms wrap around my waist, startling me.

"Everything you need at the moment is right here, Naruto." The creamy voice caused tingles across my skin and the hairs that enveloped my body to stand.

"Sasuke," was the only intelligent form of anything that slipped past my lips.

"Naruto, get up. We are late for our mission."

TBC…

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I hope you liked it. I accept and appreciate any advice. I find it funny that I like to advise others on their essays and stories, yet I am very squeamish about my own writing skills. Yet my older sister by two years, asked me to help her proof read her story that she is planning on publishing. So that has to count as something... right?

Well thanks for reading.


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